


You Give Your Hand to Me (And then you Say Hello)

by twowritehands



Series: Malcolm Bright Found a Dom [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Dom/sub, Flirting, Happy Ending, Injury Recovery, M/M, it isnt dark i swear, please tv gods let this be canon, what if Malcolm had mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 13:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: We haven't seen the last of professional Dom Nico Stavros. And neither has Malcolm.When Nico leaves a message on Malcolm's voice mail, it sparks flirtation. Chopping off someone's hand isn't usually the precursor to a healthy relationship... but few good things happen to Malcolm, and Nico Stavros smiling at him is just too good.





	You Give Your Hand to Me (And then you Say Hello)

**Author's Note:**

> The dom that lost his hand is played by James Cusati-Moyer, who is gorgeous. I hope his character returns.
> 
> The title is from the song "You Don't Know Me" by Michael Buble

Malcom's phone rang from the kitchen counter. Unknown number. He swiped ignore on his way by. Before he even got Sunshine back into her cage, the voice message alert pinged through the quiet apartment. He looked back at the counter with a frown.

It was only when he looked at the number again that he recognized it. He'd dialed it by memory once, a few days ago, after having seen it in a police file.

Unsure if it was at all wise, he played the message.

"Hi, Malcolm Bright," a masculine voice said in a professional tone. "This is Nico Stavros. I got your number from when you called my phone. You know, right before you chopped my hand off and totally saved my bacon?" His voice had a smile, which caused Malcolm to tilt his head with a frown of analysis as Nico continued, 

"So, uh. Just wanted to say that you are a _ lunatic _ . Like, really. You are _ not _ normal! Who does that?" The tone was sincere but still somehow smiling. "What kind of cop finds a kidnapped victim and whacks an axe through their wrist bone? It's insane!" 

That voice was still smiling and now Malcolm was smiling, too. Who was this guy that had every reason to be suing him yet was just… teasing him instead? 

The message continued with a throat clear. "But uh, but I didn't just call you to tell you that you are _ completely unhinged _, because you must know that about yourself already. I just wanted… I called because I wanted to thank you for saving my life. I. I wasn't ready to die, so now I guess I owe you one. Really… Aaaand I'm saying all of this in a voicemail." A breathy embarrassed laugh.

Malcolm couldn't be more surprised. He'd been expecting ire. Outrage. Threats. At the very least a controlled and professionally communicated heads up about a civil suit. But Nico only continued in a forced casual tone that was just missing the mark at smooth.

"Jesus. You know what? You are listening to the awkward ramblings of a guy who all in the last 74 hours was kidnapped, held hostage, maimed and then literally sewn back together. So, yeah, just chalk it all up to post traumatic syndrome and pain meds and just forget it. OK bye."

Malcolm leaned against his sink and pressed his knuckles against his smile.

***

Early the next morning, Malcolm swallowed his pills and exhaled. Why did it feel like the card of the day was mocking him?

_ Reach out to a friend today. _

He didn't have any friends. But he had spent the night happier than other nights, vaguely thinking about that voice mail. Bizarrely formulating a response to it. As if he'd be that reckless.

Gil would advise against it. Seeking out contact with the very same someone that he just chopped into two pieces was pushing his luck.

But the card essentially said make a friend today. Right?

He dialed the number, observing physiological autonomic responses. His heart began to race. Sweaty palms.

It went to voicemail. Thank god.

"Hi, Mr. Stavros. Malcolm Bright, returning your call. Just wanted to correct you on a couple points. First, I am not a cop. No badge whatsoever. At least not anymore. So if anything, _ a Harvard graduate _ found a kidnapped victim trapped in a time sensitive situation so he carefully aimed a conveniently sharp object approximately two inches above the radio carpal joint." Malcolm combed his hair back, pacing through his apartment as he spoke. 

Shit. He was still wearing his cuffs. Yikes. He hoped the rattle of the chains against the leads didn't register in the message?

"Uh. And my second correction: it is unfounded to claim that my actions were _ completely insane _ as it has been done before. Yes I'll admit, it is unconventional but there have certainly been others before me who have found amputation to be a fast and effective way to escape handcuffs. So calling it _ insane _ is a bit much.

Now, Lunatic. Ah, see that term is better. Because it's not in technical use anymore among us psychologists. These days it's really more of an adjective for the eccentric. Or the absurd. And both of those adjectives I freely apply to that afternoon. I mean, a man in his underwear handcuffed to a bomb in his kitchen? That's absurd. Another man arriving on the scene and freeing him via axe through bone? Yes, that is certainly an outlier from the norm.

Anyway... I'm told that your surgery went well and I'm glad of it. And you don't owe me anything. I was on the case as a favor to a friend. It's just what I do. So… I'm glad you're OK. Bye."

He hung up quickly and exhaled. So… that just happened.

***

When Malcom's phone rang, the contact info on the screen made him clench up. Nico Stavros.

"Everything OK?" Gil asked as he handed over a cup of coffee. Nearby the yellow tape of a crime scene fluttered in the wind.

"Yeah," he let the phone ring in his hand.

"Gonna answer it?" Gil asked with a glint in his eye. He hadn't seen the caller ID or he'd be less teasing about it.

Reach out, the card had said.

Malcolm cleared his throat and swiped Accept, pacing away from Gil as quickly as he could.

"Bright," he said.

"Uh--Hi. Wow. I thought it'd go to voicemail again. For some reason. Sorry. It's Nico Stavros."

Malcolm smiled. "I know."

"Right." Nervous chuckle. "So my doctors are saying I should start seeing a psychologist. I figured a Harvard graduate would know who's good in the area."

"Absolutely," Malcolm intoned. "Um. Dr. Cynthia Masters is phenomenal. I don't have her number on me just this second. Can I call you back?"

"Oh, crap. Is this a bad time?"

"No, no, no. Call whenever. It's just. I'm on a case?"

"Oh sorry."

"No don't be. I'd like to talk it's just that right this second a very grumpy NYPD detective who knows my mother is waiting for me so I should go. But I'll get that number to you. I promise."

Nico chuckled. "OK thanks."

Pocketing his phone, Malcolm returned to Gil's side. Gil had a proud papa grin that made Malcolm want to put up his coat collar and run away.

"Hot date?" Gil asked.

"I'm working on something," He answered. "Early days."

"I'll stop prying," Gil assured. "But good for you. It's been too long since I've seen you bashful like this."

Doubt swamped him and he hunched his shoulders under it. "I don't know. It's probably a bad idea."

"Hey, stop sabotaging your relationships before they even start."

"It's not sabotage, it's analysis. I'm trained to ascertain patterns and predict outcomes."

"So change the pattern," Gil said.

"I'd love to, but crazy mothers and night terrors don't go away even when you ask nicely."

***

Later that day, Malcolm knocked on the open hospital room door before stepping inside. On the bed, Nico Stavros looked up from a book with a momentary expression of polite anticipation but then a bright smile. "Harvard! Almost didn't recognize you without that madman glint in your eyes."

"Oh, well, only axes or the color red really bring the Crazy out in my eyes, I'm afraid."

"I'll keep that in mind when I'm buying your Thanks for Saving My Life Christmas present."

Malcolm handed over a bouquet of daisies. "The flower shop girl had no idea what I should bring a guy after severing one of his major arteries so we settled on daisies. For friendliness and good intentions."

Stavros tilted his head back and laughed. He reached out with his left hand and took the flowers. "Thanks."

His right arm was elevated in a traction device above heart level. His hand was cradled in a splint. Pins held a brace in place just above his wrist. An incision line went all the way around his lower forearm. The line and stitches were dark against pale skin, but clean. Malcolm tried not to stare.

"You were right," Nico said. "Reattachment surgery _ has _ come a long way. And all the doctors say you landed that blade in the best place. Relatively speaking. You saved the joint."

"There was method in my madness," Malcolm grinned.

"Madness. Ha. I call it genius."

"Some people say genius and madness are two sides of the same coin."

"Well, because of your genius, they are saying that, over all, I can expect a good recovery. I might get as much as 80% range of motion back in a year or so."

Malcolm couldn't help but drift closer and peer at the injury since Nico was also looking at it as he spoke.

He was close--possibly a tad too close--as he said. "It looks good. The seam is beautiful. Your surgeon has a precise stitching technique."

Nico snorted. "You're kind of creepy, you know that?"

Malcolm cut his eyes to Nico, grinning, "So I've been told."

Nico held his eye. Malcolm felt a dark surging within and looked away, clearing his throat and even moving a safe distance back. "So, uh, it occurred to me, when the flower girl assumed my flowers were for an apology, that I haven't yet. Apologized." He put his heels together and his hands clasped behind his back. "Formally, I do apologize for the pain I caused while saving your life, Mr. Stavros."

Nico accepted it with a tilt forward of his head. There was a beat and then, "I thought I knew pain." He scoffed and shook his head. "Guess maybe this is a sign to find a new hobby."

"You can still be a Dom," Malcolm blurted. He blushed and continued. "Even if you never get 80% range of motion back. A good Dom is in more than his grip strength."

"Thanks, but… we'll see."

Malcolm bit his tongue against an onslaught of encouragement. It wasn't his place. If the guy lost his Dominating spirit then the world was just going to have to lose a handsome, kind eyed Dom. It wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

Nico shook himself out of whatever morose thoughts he'd plunged into. "Anyway, I'm glad you came by."

"I've been warned by a precinct lawyer to avoid contact with you. The moment they hear I've apologized they'll have a conniption."

"Nah, don't worry about all of that. I'm not out for money. Sure, people think I should be outraged. But the way I see it, it's because of you that doctors were able to do what doctors do. Otherwise, some forensics crew would have had a hundred pieces to scoop into a body bag."

"I'm pleased we avoided that outcome."

Nico grinned, eyeing him. "Me, too."

Malcolm felt those autonomic responses again. Sweaty palms. Fluttering in his gut. Oh, god.

"So, um…" Malcolm turned a half circle on the spot, looking toward the door and reaching into his pocket. "I came not only to offer the gesture of friendliness," he motioned to the daisies, "and to apologize," he put a hand on his heart, "but to give you the number we talked about." 

He extended the business card. "Dr. Masters. She's a colleague of mine. Very good work in traumatic recovery, and she's… _ understanding _ of. The Lifestyle." He cleared his throat, hoping to cover the halt in his voice.

It was too hot in this room.

Nico took the card. Their fingers brushed, and Malcolm could swear it was deliberate. It sent him backing up toward the door. "I should go. Good luck, Mr. Stavros."

"Mr. Bright," he said saluting with the business card.

Malcolm turned and left, eager to be far away before the handsome maybe-retired-dom had a chance to look at the back of the card. In a fit of bravado that totally escaped him now, he'd scrawled a note.

_ I'm in town if you need a friend. Call me whenever. And when you reach the point in your recovery where you want someone with which to test the waters, I occasionally swim in the shallow end. Just ask. -M _

***

It was two weeks later and his card of the morning said, _ Deep Down I Know There is Nothing To Fear _ . Which he was struggling with, to be honest. Because deep down was exactly where there _ would _ be something to fear. If it was there. If he inherited the darkness… 

Malcolm was at Gil's desk putting together a briefing on his latest profile for one of NYPD's cases when his phone buzzed on the desk.

_ Holding a coffee cup is good physical therapy. Can I count on your help? _

He smiled but before he could darken the screen, Dani saw it. He felt the temperature in the room go down by two degrees. 

"Nico and coffee? That better not be _ the _ Nico." She hit the edge of her flattened hand against her opposite wrist.

"It's none of your concern," Malcolm clipped as he tucked away his phone.

"You cut off a man's hand, and he _ still _ wants to have coffee with you?" she made it sound like a personal affront to her very nature.

Malcolm shrugged. "What can I say? I'm adorable."

"It's his Witch Eyes," JT said from where he poured over the case files.

Dani and Malcolm both paused and looked over at JT who looked up from the file and shrugged. "What? A dude can't admit when another dude's got striking eyes?"

"Thanks," Malcolm said.

"Unbelievable," Dani scoffed. "The guy must be even crazier than you."

Gil had arrived in time to hear her comment. "Who's crazier than Bright?"

"No one," Malcolm said at the same time that Dani happily chirped, "Nico Stavros wants to go for coffee with Bright."

Malcolm would have clamped his hand over her mouth if he'd known she was going to be such a rat. He glared at her as Gil closed his eyes and bowed his head. Malcolm knew this look. It was the Give Me a Minute So I Do Not Shout At A Broken Boy look.

"It's coffee " Malcolm mumbled. "An olive branch."

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Gil asked and dragged him out into the hall.

"Do you consider submitting to the Dom that you personally maimed to be at all an appropriate thing to do?"

"It's not _ submitting _," Malcolm hissed. "It's coffee. We have a rapport." He shrugged.

Gil glared at him but then softened and swore. "Is this the guy that called you at the crime scene? Made you all fidgety and smiley?"

Malcolm bit his lip and wrinkled his nose guiltily.

Gil sighed and put his coat back with his hands on his hips. "Jackie would kill me if she knew I was nipping something that made you look that happy in the bud. But promise me you won't let him get you into _ too _ vulnerable of a position."

"Absolutely _ no _ letting a practical stranger with PTSD who might be triggered and suddenly want revenge tie me up," Malcolm nodded. "I'm crazy, Gil. Not reckless."

Gil grinned. "I had a gut feeling about this, you know. When me and JT went to question him and he asked if it was one of us who called his phone before the door kicked in. JT said _ yeah _ and the next question out of Stavros' mouth was, _ the guy in the suit _?"

Malcolm grinned. Gil shook his head. "I thought to myself, well he either wants to tell Bright to go to hell or… my boy made an impression he just can't shake off. I guess coffee means it's the latter."

Malcolm made a hopeful face and showed crossed fingers. "Here's hoping, right?"

Gil chuckled. "Times like this, I really miss Jackie. I could hand this off to her. Let her deal with it."

Malcolm dropped a hand on his shoulder. "You've made great strides brushing against gay and BDSM culture with me, Gil. Jackie would be proud."

Gil knocked the hand away. "Yeah yeah. Now give us our profile already."

***

Nico arrived in the diner with his arm in a sling and bandages wrapped carefully around the brace. He looked good. Clean shaven. Hair swept back. Fitted jeans and T-shirt.

"Hey thanks for meeting me," Nico said as he took a seat at the table across from Malcolm.

"Nice place," Malcolm said. "I had a favorite diner in DC. This reminds me of it, actually."

"DC? Nico's eyes swept over him. "So… Fed?"

"In a previous life," Malcolm answered tactfully. "But the freelance consultant path is really more my speed."

"Maybe someday I'll get the full story there."

"Yeah, maybe."

"So," the waitress came up to pour his coffee and left. "Thanks for recommending Dr. Masters. She's brilliant."

"I'm glad you're comfortable with her. And everything's going OK?"

"Well I was held hostage for days during which I believed that I was absolutely going to die so… you know. It's gonna take effort to find a new normal."

"And the hand?"

"Check it out," he gently extracted the arm from the sling and laid it on the table. Then he wiggled his fingers.

Malcolm cheered.

"Can't feel a thing yet, of course. But that takes time."

He fitted his hand around the coffee mug in front of him and worked on flexing his fingers around the curve of the porcelain.

"Careful, it's hot," Malcolm warned and pulled the cup away.

"Oh. Uh. Thanks." Nico was blushing. "I should have realized."

"Here." He shoved over his own empty cup. "Use this one for that." he molded the hand around the cup. His skin was warm. Alive.

"Thanks," Nico said, looking at Malcolm's hand on his. Malcolm realized the man couldn't feel the brush of his thumb across his knuckles. His brachial nerve was still healing. He released the hand.

Awkward silence fell. But then Nico reached into his jacket and dropped--the business card on the table. Note side up.

_ "I occasionally swim in the shallow end _," he quoted. "I take that to mean you're not looking for a Lifestyle experience?"

Malcolm, mortified, cleared his throat and spoke around his hand. "Uh. No. Well… no. Not. Not anymore."

"I see. Well, I'm sorry for the blunt question. I've just been dying to know your limits."

"No, yeah. That's fine. I get it." Malcolm realized Nico was still waiting so he cleared his throat and continued. "My limits. Bondage is ideal. Domination? In light doses, I guess you could say? I don't do much by way of sadism or masochism, but I'm no stranger to either one."

"A kinky dabbler, then," Nico grinned at him.

"That's apt," Malcolm said with a tilt of his head.

"OK. I can work with that. As you know, I'm stepping back from the lifestyle, too. For now, at least."

"Understandable."

"So on the table for me right now is vanilla. Spooning. Cuddling. Missionary sex."

Malcolm guffawed and it turned into a giggle before he could check it. "Uh. That works?"

Nico leaned in with his eyebrow raised, "Is that a question?"

"No. It works. It's just. That was a little forward. I guess I wasn't expecting the imagery."

"_ That _ was too forward? Oh, no, let me guess. Bondage and torture scenes don't cause you a moment's pause but any notion of tender love making makes you uneasy."

Malcolm shifted and was horrified by how warm his cheeks were. "We all have our damage, I guess."

Nico grinned. "OK. Sorry. I was just teasing. You can unclench."

"I-I'm fine."

"I said something that made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry."

"No don't worry about it. It's OK." he exhaled and remembered his card. Deep down there is nothing to fear.

Nico watched him carefully. "I am serious about giving this a chance. You know, if our limits match well together. Kinda seems like we both could use someone to lean on right now."

"You're not wrong. My life has recently turned upside down. For the _ second _ time. And I have my own demons that I'm being made to face."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. But the, uh, the spooning and the, the love making… Well... I'm not _ against it, _ but you should know it's difficult for me-- _ dating _ is difficult--I have night terrors? They can be disruptive--they have been--Disruptive."

Malcolm's heart was beating in his ears. His right hand shook and he gripped it tightly in his lap. Deep down there is nothing to fear.

Nico sat for a beat, absorbing the information, and then nodded. His smile was easy, friendly. "Relax. Breathe. Night terrors are an easy work around. We won't sleep over at each other's places for a while."

Malcolm glanced at the door. There is nothing to fear. He laughed nervously. "Also, you need fair warning that the moment my east end mother gets wind of you, she'll make it her life's mission to find out why you're not good enough."

Nico laughed. "OK, you don't have to look so freaked out. I'll stay downwind from the east end. It'll be easy."

What Nico was saying clicked into place and Malcolm's mouth fell open and he laughed. "So you're proposing a completely casual vanilla fling with no strings attached."

"Is that lame?"

"No. It's," Malcolm actually sighed with relief, feeling tension leave his shoulders. "No that's okay. It's just that. You said love making earlier and I got the wrong impression for a second." He was embarrassed now. Why had he assumed Nico was half in love with him already? 

"You thought, what? I've become a crazy obsessed stalker or something?"

"I mean, I am the guy that saved you. I'm handsome and you must have picked up on the gay vibe and the submissive tendencies so maybe you started projecting all these emotions onto me but--"

"Well I don't think that's fair--"

"No it is. It's more than fair. It's the science of the mind."

Nico huffed and studied Malcolm with a shake of his head. But still seemed… fond. "Would it be such a bad thing, though? If I am projecting a little bit?"

Malcolm tensed again. "If you are, it'll be a hard and fiery crash when you realize how far from perfect I actually am."

"Well, you nearly bolted the moment you thought I wanted to be your boyfriend, so yeah, it's pretty clear from over here that you have issues. But don't worry about it. We can leave all that at the door. You know?"

Whew. Malcolm smiled. Casual was not his usual style, but Gil had advised he change the pattern. He nodded. "OK."

"Haha," Nico slumped back in his booth. His eyes were sparkling. "OK. Really? Because I just heard myself and I said I don't care about your baggage because I don't intend to get that close to you." He groaned and covered his eyes. "I've never been a pig before. I swear."

"Don't worry about it." Malcolm stood and threw down money for the bill and tip. Nico stood too and they headed out. "This is a predictable response. You nearly died. You probably want to feel alive but trauma has blocked you from your usual outlet. You need to get to a place where you don't have to think. But you're not in a place to be a boyfriend. Really, I'm not against helping you."

"Wait a minute," Nico turned up his jacket collar against the wind. He squinted at Malcolm. Now he was the unsure one. "Is this ethical?"

"Absolutely. Dr. Masters is your psychologist. I'm just a guy who pulled you out of a blast radius."

***

They got a room. Nico's work space was a crime scene. His home was all the way in Brooklyn. And Malcolm wasn't about to show the guy where he lived just yet. So. A room.

It had been a while for Malcolm. Since before The Butcher case. A quick hook up with a cute neighbor back in DC. 

Having lived the past couple of months back in New York winding up tighter and tighter, he welcomed this feeling in his bones. Release was on the way. Like a tidal wave building up in the depths of the ocean.

Slipping out of his own head and into that About to Get Fucked headspace was like sinking below the surface of the water. All the noise cut away. He was suspended. Rushing toward a break against the shore.

Even with just the one arm, Nico was good. His dom switch was, for now, _ off_, but he still took command. And Malcolm surrendered to his lead.

Nico's kisses were _ consuming _. And his eyes were intense. And they didn't have to talk. Trading smiles from the moment they entered the room, they never said a word as clothes came away and lips met skin. 

With carpet fibers pressing against his kneecaps, Malcolm used his lips to explore across acres of olive skin, finding erogenous zones, tasting the salt of flesh.

In the bed, they moved carefully at first, being sure not to put too much weight on or jostle the braced arm too much. But, eventually, they found their position, their rhythm. Malcolm relished the stretch of him, the pressure and the burn and the pleasure.

He could see glimpses of the Dom that Nico would be. It made him hotter. Hungrier. He wanted that. He knew better, but he wanted it.

He came with Nico's left hand laying against his throat, ever so lightly squeezing.

As they dressed, Nico's phone rang. He apologized and answered it. By the tone of voice he used, it was business related.

"What? No, tell McGuire that the deposition is still mine... Because I temporarily lost a hand, not my ability to win this case…. No, you tell him I still have either foot that I can shove up his ass in court on friday."

Malcolm smiled and waited as Nico wrapped up the call.

"Lawyer," Malcolm accused with a grin.

Nico winced playfully, "Yale Law, too."

Malcolm feign offense. "You tricked me! Obviously, as a Harvard grad, I can't be seen with you."

He made to walk right out the door but Nico caught his arm and pulled him into a smiling kiss. Malcolm surrendered happily into it.

"This was fun," Nico said. He wrapped his arm low around Malcolm's back. Malcolm moved in close as he could with an arm in a sling between them. Nico bumped his nose along Malcolm's jaw. "You're a _ very _ good lay."

Malcolm laughed. "That's always a nice thing to hear."

"Listen, I really have to get back to work. But we'll do this again soon?"

Malcolm nodded. "I won't tell my alumni if you don't tell yours."

"Deal," Nico slid his hand into Malcolm's and they headed out.

"Hey," Malcolm said as they stepped into the elevator. "Do you know what all Yale and Harvard graduates have in common?" Nico shook his head and Malcolm grinned. "We all got into Yale."

Nico groaned and ruffled his hair.

Malcolm inhaled as he leaned into the half circle of Nico's arm. The doors closed and they descended down to the lobby. 

_ Deep down, I know there is nothing to fear. _

For the first time that day, he started to believe it.


End file.
